


Every Step of The Way

by GotTheSilver



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 01:00:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: Post Infinity War*Pressing his lips together, Tony closes his eyes, wanting to block out the entire room, the country, hell, the fucking world if he can.  None of this makes sense, and he wishes he could stop his brain from trying to process it because processing it means making some kind of peace with what’s happened and that—Tony doesn’t want that.  Can’t have that.There’s nothing that can make what happened any better.  For anyone.





	Every Step of The Way

**Author's Note:**

> title stolen from Whitney and Dolly because who doesn't love The Bodyguard?
> 
> thanks to Steph for always sharing the love for these guys.

Tony’s barely standing when he gets off the ship in Wakanda, Nebula by his side hovering as if she can tell he’s going to collapse. The last thing he hears is a familiar voice whispering his name in what could be disbelief before all he knows is—.

Darkness.

*

When he wakes up, his hands are clean and before he can understand what’s happening, his heart monitor is making noise, and there’s too many people there he doesn’t know. “No, please, I—” his voice is unfamiliar to his own ears and he can’t—.

“Tony,” comes the familiar voice again, followed by a tentative hand on his head, and as much as Tony wants to yank his head away, there’s something flowing through his veins and then he’s—.

Darkness, again.

*

When he wakes up again, Rhodey is there, face ashen, and god, that was the worst choice of words for Tony’s brain to make because now all he’s seeing is—the kid. Everyone. Gone, like that. “Rhodey,” he says, his voice unsteady. “Who—do we?”

“Hey Tony,” Rhodey says, pressing something that lifts the bed so that Tony’s in a sitting position. Now he’s somewhat upright, Tony can see Natasha, Bruce, but there’s no sign of—it’s fine, it doesn’t matter. “Don’t get up.”

“We lost,” Tony says quietly, mostly to himself. “We—I watched them. The kid, he—”

“Peter? Peter was with you?”

“He’s gone.”

Rhodey curses under his breath, shaking his head as his hand lands on Tony’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Tony. We lost Sam, T’Challa, Wanda, a lot of T’Challa’s people, it’s—”

“Half the universe.”

“Yeah.”

Tony closes his eyes, unable to process the enormity of it all. He’d watched it happen before him, had held onto Peter as if somehow that would stop what was happening, and still it felt like a dream. Like if he could pinch himself hard enough he would wake up from this, that it would just be another nightmare that would vanish upon his eyes opening. “Who called Steve?” he asks, finally, because he’s not stupid, he knows exactly who was touching him earlier.

“I did,” Bruce says. “He’s not—” he breaks off and glances at Natasha, who narrows her eyes, shaking her head.

Tony watches the exchange, before looking at Rhodey. “What aren’t they telling me?”

Rhodey glances over at Bruce and Natasha before he opens his mouth. “We lost Bucky as well. They didn’t want to tell you.”

“Oh,” Tony says, looking down at his hands. They’re clean, no trace of dirt from Titan on them, and despite that, Tony would swear he could still feel the heat from the ashes as Peter faded away. “Did he—did Steve—”

“He saw it.”

Pressing his lips together, Tony closes his eyes, wanting to block out the entire room, the country, hell, the fucking world if he can. None of this makes sense, and he wishes he could stop his brain from trying to process it because processing it means making some kind of peace with what’s happened and that—Tony doesn’t want that. Can’t have that.

There’s nothing that can make what happened any better. For anyone.

*

It takes less time than Tony thought it would for him to be back on his feet, and it’s not through stubbornness, he’s actually healed. He keeps touching where his own armour sliced through his skin, how there isn’t even a mark there, and it’s disconcerting in so many ways that Tony doesn’t know whether to thank Shuri or demand she puts a scar on him.

Thank her, obviously, is what he would do, but since T’Challa isn’t here anymore she’s been sequestered away with her mother, Okoye, and M’Baku. The future of Wakanda is at stake and Tony’s starting to get the feeling that it would be prudent for he and the others to leave soon.

“It’s funny,” he says, hearing the door behind him open. “Any other time, me in Wakanda would be like a playground. The tech here is beyond anything I’ve—and Shuri? Kid’s a genius. She’s going to change the world, assuming we don’t destroy it before she can.”

“What’s the plan?” Natasha asks, coming to stand next to him, looking out at Wakanda.

Tony lets out a hollow laugh, pressing a palm to his forehead. “I don’t know why you’re asking me.”

“Because you’ve also realised we can’t stay here.”

“Yeah,” Tony says after a beat. “Did the quinjet survive?”

“As far as I know.”

“Nebula?”

“She’s still here.”

“Okay. Tell her if she wants to come to earth with us, then she—”

“She wants to kill Thanos,” Natasha interrupts. “I think the only reason she’s stayed this long is to make sure you’re alive.”

“Well. It’s going to be a quiet journey back, so tell her she can take the ship wherever she wants, I doubt Quill would mind, and even if he did—” Tony breaks off and shakes his head. “Tell Steve I—fuck. I guess we need to talk.”

Natasha turns and raises an eyebrow at him. “Now that’s something I never thought I’d hear you say.”

“Yeah, well. What else is there left to do?”

*

Tony’s got a piece of bread in his mouth when Steve walks in, and he swallows quickly, reaching for the water to clear his throat out. Steve’s hunched over, like he’s trying to make himself smaller, and Tony doesn’t know what to do with that. “Hi,” he says, finally. “You grew a beard.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice so quiet that Tony has to strain to hear him. “Tony, I—”

“No,” Tony interrupts. “We’re not—” he breaks off and waves to the other chair across from him. “Sit down.” Tony watches Steve walk over, and if he didn’t know better, he would think Steve was going to break into pieces with each step. He’s never seen Steve look so uncertain and it floods Tony with nerves because he didn’t expect _this_ from Steve. “Have some water,” he says, pouring a glass out for Steve, somehow managing to hide the shake in his hands from Steve.

“You didn’t call,” Steve says after he’s taken a drink, the glass still in his hand.

“I know.”

“You should’ve called.”

“Know that too, Steve,” Tony says tightly.

“Bruce called me, I didn’t—you weren’t _here_ ,” Steve says, a slight tremble in his voice that Tony slowly takes in, realising that—just maybe—Steve had been worried about him.

“Steve, I—”

“I wanted you to call,” Steve interrupts. “That’s why I sent you the damn phone.”

“Okay,” Tony says after a beat. “Okay.”

Steve puts his glass on the table and leans back in the chair; he’s still in his suit, blood in his beard even though Tony knows any injuries would’ve healed by now, and he looks on the verge of collapse. “I don’t know what to do,” Steve says quietly. “I don’t understand what—”

“Join the club.” Setting his glass down on the table between them, Tony leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You were there when I got here, and when I first woke up.”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a quick nod. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Why?”

“Why am I sorry?” Steve asks, his brow furrowed.

“No, why were you there?”

Steve straightens in his chair, looking stung. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Tony, no one knew— _I_ didn’t know—if you were still alive.” He huffs out a noise that could be a laugh if it wasn’t so defeated. “I know you won’t believe me, but I do still care about you, Tony.”

“I believe you,” Tony says, a little too quickly for his own liking. Running his hands over his thighs, Tony shrugs. “That was never the problem between us, I—” Tony breaks off and stands up, starting to pace in front of the windows. “God, this is so not the time for any of this,” he mutters, before turning around to face Steve. “Look at us, the world’s falling apart and we’re still stuck on this. No wonder we lost.”

“Tony—”

“No. We’re not doing this,” Tony says, holding up a hand. “We can’t change anything, so—do you even want to work with me?”

“Yes,” Steve says, standing up. “I never—” he breaks off, ducking his head. “I never wanted to stop working with you. Never wanted to stop doing anything with you.”

“Oh,” Tony says, swallowing around the lump in his throat, watching the way Steve’s shoulders have slumped as he’s thrown what feels like a confession into the air, how he looks like one wrong word from Tony will have him collapsing into himself. Tony doesn’t understand how they’ve ended up here, how all the years they spent together and apart have lead to this; the destruction of half the universe with the two of them left alive to figure out what the fuck happened. “Me either,” he says, finally, hating himself for how hard it is to choke those words out. “I never wanted to stop.”

“So what do we do now?”

Tony shakes his head before offering Steve half a smile. “We go home.”

*

It doesn’t take long to get everyone on the quinjet, Tony’s still not sure where the talking raccoon came from but Thor seems attached to him, and they’re going to need all the help they can get. Rhodey takes the controls with Natasha by his side, Steve’s still looking shellshocked, and Bruce is crashed out asleep on a stretcher. Tony’s alternating between staring at Steve and walking around the jet restlessly, wanting to be back at the compound, but fearing what awaits them.

“Do we have any news from New York?” he asks the jet at large. “Anyone been in contact?”

“No,” comes the short response from Natasha. “Communications have been spotty, we’re not sure who we have left.”

“Great,” Tony mutters under his breath. “That’s great.”

“Let’s just get back to the compound and go from there,” Rhodey says. “All of us need to shower, sleep, eat. I hate to say it, but there’s nothing we can do until we fix ourselves.”

Tony wants to laugh at the suggestion that any of them can be fixed in any meaningful way, but one glance at the anguished look on Steve’s face stops him. Keeps him quiet for the rest of the journey.

*

“There’s rooms,” Tony says when they arrive at the compound. It’s eerily quiet and he feels an intense need to fill the void. “Thor, find Rocket a room, everyone else, your rooms are still the same.”

Tony can feel Steve’s eyes on him as everyone walks away, Thor carrying on a conversation with Rocket, the others wearily heading to the rooms Tony never had the heart to reassign. Taking a breath to steady himself, Tony turns around to face Steve.

“Still the same,” Steve repeats, a heavy tone in his voice. “Should I find a free room?”

Tony takes a moment before what Steve’s asking sinks in. “I haven’t really been staying here since—you can take it, I can—”

“No, Tony, I don’t want to—”

“You wouldn’t be, I’m offering.”

“You don’t need—”

“Or,” Tony interrupts, his palms sweating like he’s fourteen again. “You could—if you wanted—stay in the room. Our room. With me.”

“Tony, I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to,” Steve says, absently rubbing at the blood that’s still on his damn beard, and Tony lets out a sigh before reaching up and pulling Steve’s hand away. “What—”

“I’m going to sound like a teenager, but—” Tony pauses, looking Steve in the eyes. “I missed you. And this, all of what’s happened today, it fixes nothing, I know that. But,” he continues when Steve’s face falls. “I’m here, and you’re here, and it’s been one hell of a day, so can we just—”

“You’d trust me?” Steve asks, his hand limp in Tony’s hand like he’s scared of holding on to this again, like he knows what’s resting on the answer to his question.

“Yes,” Tony says, pushing down the part of him that wants to say no, that keeps seeing Steve bringing the shield down on the arc reactor. Taking a deep breath, he squeezes Steve’s hand once before letting go. “Separate showers, though,” he says with a wink, and the laugh Steve lets out in response is the best thing Tony’s heard in months.

*

It’s dark in their room—as hard as he’s tried, Tony’s never been able to stop thinking of it as their room—when he hears Steve come in, the light from Tony’s tablet the only illumination. “Pepper’s gone,” Tony says without looking up, his hands unable to let the tablet go. “I don’t know what to do, I have FRIDAY compiling lists, but—”

“Tony,” Steve says quietly, climbing on the bed and reaching for the tablet. “Give me the tablet.” His hands are warm over Tony’s and, against his better instincts, Tony lets him take the tablet and put it on a bedside table.

The rustling sound of Steve getting under the blankets echoes in the quiet, dark room, and Tony moves until his head is resting on his pillow, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry about Barnes,” he says at last.

“I’m sorry about Pepper,” Steve responds, turning on his side. “Tony, you should sleep.”

“I know.”

Steve reaches over and touches Tony’s hip tentatively, like he thinks Tony is going to throw him out of the bed if he crosses an invisible line, and somehow it’s that touch which makes Tony crumble. He doesn’t mean to turn and curl into Steve’s chest, to take comfort from the way Steve pulls him closer, but it’s been _so_ long since he’s had this that Tony wouldn’t know how to say no even if he wanted to. “Can you sleep?” Steve asks, his voice barely a whisper in the darkness.

“I still have your shield,” Tony says, regretting it when Steve stills. “I mean—”

“Tony.”

“If you want it back.”

“Tony,” Steve says again as he shifts on the bed, his fingers tipping Tony’s chin up until their eyes meet. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Tony says, watching the way Steve’s eyes drop down to his mouth. “Steve, this is—”

“A bad idea,” Steve says as he leans in, his beard grazing Tony’s face. “I know.”

There’s a need in Steve’s eyes that Tony hasn’t seen since the first time they did this, and Tony he—. Maybe tomorrow he’s going to wake up and regret this, maybe he’s going to curse himself for letting Steve in again, but after everything that’s happened, all Tony wants is this. Steve’s mouth is soft against his, gentle, and Tony reaches up, fingertips brushing against Steve’s beard, familiarising himself with the feel of it against his skin.

Breaking the kiss to take a breath, Tony closes his eyes and tries not to think about what a huge mistake this could be. Steve’s fingers are running over Tony’s face, and Tony leans into the touch, smiling slightly when they trace over the bow of his lips. “Dork,” he says fondly, without thinking.

“I missed you saying that,” Steve says, pressing his thumb against Tony’s bottom lip. “I missed _you_.”

“What are we going to do now?” Tony asks, opening his eyes to look at Steve, wanting to tug on his longer hair to see what reaction Steve gives him. “I mean, sleep, yes, but—”

“We’ll work that out tomorrow,” Steve says, as Tony shifts on the bed into his usual sleeping position.

“We?” Tony asks around a yawn as Steve’s arm curls around his waist. “Together?”

There’s silence, before Steve presses a kiss against the back of Tony’s neck. “Together,” he says softly. “Whatever happens.” And somehow, to Tony’s ears, that sounds like a promise.


End file.
